


Rattle Through

by Owlship



Series: Riding the SkyTrain [6]
Category: Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Obliviousness, F/M, Implied Dead End/Perceptor, Other, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: She punches his shin plating, but there's a smile on her faceplate, her dinged-up wings at a relaxed angle. "Aft," she says. "You owe me big time."Astrotrain regards her, a pull of anticipation in his circuits. "What did you have in mind?"
Relationships: Astrotrain/Skywarp (Transformers)
Series: Riding the SkyTrain [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926703
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Rattle Through

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to have lost all control over my life thanks to these purple assholes so that's been fun! There's an actual plot building up here, I swear. But it'll take another couple of parts to really get there... Oops?

"That better not be what I think it is," Dead End says, flat and resigned.

Astrotrain follows his line of sight; he'd forgotten he never cleaned up after his last Skywarp encounter. The slab they used is marked with a few paint transfers, innocent enough, but there's also a telltale stain of dried transfluid and a crumpled up cleaning rag.

He arches his optical ridges at Dead End and lets a smirk grow across his faceplate.

"Eugh," Dead End says. "At least clean up after yourself. What's wrong with you?"

"If it bothers you, clean it yourself," Astrotrain says. He would have cleaned it, but now it's another way to make Dead End's life miserable and so he'll happily let the evidence of his 'facing stay forever.

"I almost hope the Other One _does_ show up," Dead End mutters, "Let him deal with you."

Astrotrain tamps down on the sliver of fear that wants to creep up on him and none-too-gently nudges Dead End aside with his pede as he makes for the half-assembled unspace device, satisfied with the way Dead End crashes against against the base of the main computer.

"Oops," he says without a nanogram of sincerity.

Dead End just glares at him from his heap on the floor.

Astrotrain ignores him in favor of poking at the unspace device. He can't figure out how the damned thing is supposed to work- the weapon they recovered from the Quintesson ship was damaged far more than his technical skills allow him to overcome. He'd been hoping that just building a replica would reveal the places that need fixing but all it's done is create a mess.

If he admits any of this out loud, Dead End will mock him and then probably report to Megatron that the project is taking so long because Astrotrain really isn't up to the task. And the thought of being declared useless, unnecessary- even in this dimension, he doesn't want that to happen.

It might be time to switch tracks and attempt his first back-up plan. And if all else fails he figures he can build a more conventional weapon, because it's better to have _something_ than nothing.

"This wiring is assembled all wrong," Astrotrain says. "Rip it out."

"Rip it out yourself," Dead End says, and comes to stand next to him before the unspace device. "And what do you mean, it's assembled wrong? I was following _your_ schematics, lead-head."

Astrotrain picks up Dead End and sets him on top of the device, ignoring his flailing protests. "Start with the plasma relays," he suggests, and then moves over to the main computer terminal, ignoring the insults hurled at him.

Apparently he can't replicate the device that produces a physical manifestation of unspace, but he _should_ be able to duplicate and alter the design for his multiverse drive in order to open portals to unspace, instead. At least he knows this one works, and he has detailed scans to work with from when he took Skywarp's advice and saw Hook about the poorly configured power lines. Astrotrain would be more confident if this option was guaranteed to deactivate Megatron, but surely even his former leader can't find a way to return from the void of unspace?

They work on their separate tasks for most of the cycle without speaking. Well, without speaking to each other. Dead End keeps up a near-constant stream of complaints and insults as he works, all pitched _just_ too low for Astrotrain's audials to make out clearly.

"I need a lift tonight," Dead End says at a regular volume as the sky above the open ceiling shades darker with the coming sunset.

Astrotrain shrugs, not peeling his optics away from where he's manipulating a rendering of his new weapon's focusing system. Their duty shift is almost over, but he's sure he can get this one thing figured out before then. "You know my price."

Dead End lets out a sound like depressurizing air. "About that," he says, which is enough to make Astrotrain glance over. "Can't we work out another payment?"

"It's what you agreed to," he says evenly.

"You've bled my stash dry," Dead End says, clearly going for sympathy. It's an odd choice. "Even Breakdown wouldn't lend me more high-grade, he thinks I've developed a problem."

Astrotrain laughs. He doesn't even try to stop himself. This is exactly what he was hoping for when he decided on the price tag for his services, though he must admit he hadn't anticipated how often Dead End would want to visit his Autobot lover.

"Oh shut up," Dead End snaps, the wheedling tone gone from his voice. "What else do you want? Shanix? Circuit speeders? Upgrade cells for your cannons?"

Astrotrain doesn't have a lot of material desires, if he's honest. His basic needs are taken care of with his fuel ration, the cleaning materials provided in the washracks, and access to the repair bay. Anything else is something he can do without.

But Dead End is really hung up on his Autobot, if the number of trips he's demanded is anything to go by, and watching him get desperate is quality entertainment.

"I'll take shanix," Astrotrain says, and watches as Dead End's frame starts relaxing. "One hundred per trip."

"What!?" Dead End sputters indignantly. "You're out of your processor if you think I'm paying that much for a shuttle ride."

Astrotrain just smirks down at him. Either Dead End coughs up the cash, or he finds a new mech to carry him to his lover- either way, Astrotrain wins.

"Forget it," Dead End says, "I'll find my own way over."

"Oh no," Astrotrain says in a monotone, "How will I go on."

Dead End throws the wrench he was using at him, but it can barely be felt against Astrotrain's thick plating.

He's a little hesitant to comm Skywarp. Not because he doesn't still want to frag her, but because Astrotrain's not sure what caused her reaction the other cycle and doesn't want to set her off again, or endure the discomfort of comforting someone else.

At first when he realized she was crying he thought he'd hurt her, maybe his spike had damaged her vocalizer and she hadn't been able to tell him to stop- never mind that her comms would presumably still work- but then she'd grabbed for him rather than pushing him away. Not the reaction of a mecha who blames their berthpartner.

He thinks they parted on good enough terms after that, anyway, but he's still not sure about the whole situation, and such uncertainty makes him uneasy. He prefers it when things are clear, direct.

But, Astrotrain thinks, he still owes her for destroying his berth and spilling paint on him. Even if it had been the push he needed to find a real berthroom in the base. If he can send her a prank, something harmless but annoying to let her know he's still interested, then the lob-ball will be on her side of the court.

It takes him a considerable amount of time to think of _what_ he can possibly do to prank her, but inspiration comes thanks to him overhearing some mecha chattering about a vid-show: _Alien Hunt_. There haven't been any Cybertronian shows in his dimension in a long time, but he remembers this one vaguely, particularly how funny it was to watch the hapless assistant get nearly deactivated every episode. He doesn't want to find something truly dangerous to let loose and potentially hurt Skywarp, but a little mayhem seems like something she'd appreciate.

He has to steal them from the Autobot side of the planet, but soon Astrotrain is in possession of four loud, mildly destructive nitro-goats. Supposedly they can chew through dura-steel if motivated, and love shiny things, so he figures they'll be perfect to turn loose in the seeker's barracks.

He thought about bringing them directly to Skywarp's habsuite, but not only would they get caught too quickly, he likes the idea of inconveniencing the majority of the air force as well.

As a finishing touch he paints glyphs on their sides in bold paint: #1, #2, #4 and #5.

The result of this prank is better than Astrotrain could have predicted. He assumed that the nitro-goats would be loud and messy, and caught easily with some worry over the 'missing' #3. What he didn't plan on was the flashy seekers being quite so attractive targets for the mechanimals, resulting in mass hysteria as they tried to defend themselves and, somehow, one of the nitro-goats chewing its way into the walls, causing untold damage to the wiring and glitching up systems all over the base.

Skywarp comms him almost immediately, a string of glyphs that amounts to ::!?!?!:: and then later in the cycle a longer, more eloquent message full of cursing him and his ancestors all the way back to Primus. Apparently, everyone assumes the nitro-goats are her fault.

He simply replies, ::Found all of them yet?::

She pings him for a video call and he accepts, smirking. " _I'm going to rip out your teleportation drive and feed it to them_ ," she says, optics flashing. Behind her, something seems to be on fire. It might be a seeker, to judge by the screams.

"You can try," Astrotrain says, smirk widening to a smile.

She snarls, but he can see that the corners of her mouth keep curving up. If she was really upset, she'd probably have just teleported to his location and shot him. " _You will never recharge in peace again_ ," she tells him.

The lights flicker, and someone out of the range of her camera pick-up shouts about nitro-goats in the ceiling.

"Sounds like you won't be getting much recharge, either," he says.

Skywarp uses her free hand to gesture between her optics and the camera. " _You picked the wrong femme to mess with_ ," she says, but her voice sounds like she's suppressing the urge to laugh. He hopes it's laughter, anyway. Something out of frame catches her attention before he can respond, her helm jerking up suddenly and expression hardening out of its playfulness. " _No, Sunstorm, do_ not _do that in here_ -!"

The call cuts off abruptly.

It takes two cycles before Skywarp confronts him as he's leaving another briefing of Megatron's.

"You're a lying scag," she says, and she looks more of a mess than he's ever seen before, her plating showing evidence of bites and scratches and burns, an entire chunk missing from the tip of her left wing as if she's been battling something far fiercer than domesticated mechanimals. "There were only ever four nitro-goats, weren't there?"

Astrotrain fails to keep himself from chuckling.

She punches his shin plating, but there's a smile on her faceplate, her dinged-up wings at a relaxed angle. "Aft," she says. "You owe me big time."

He regards her, a pull of anticipation in his circuits. "What did you have in mind?"

"I've got some ideas," Skywarp says, denta flashing as she grins. "Where are you berthing down these cycles?"

He leads her to the room he's found and claimed. It's not much- it had been a storage room, until he cleared it out- but it's large enough for him to stand and take a few paces around, and the walls are solid rather than pieced together from scrap. His berth itself is the same as before, just propped up on storage crates instead of its broken legs.

He'd been thinking about searching through the wrecked cities for a better one, but then his off-duty cycle was taken up by the very same seeker before him now.

"Well, it's an improvement, I guess," Skywarp says as she casts a critical optic around the berthroom.

"Thanks," he says drily, amused rather than offended. Now that he's seen the rest of the seeker's barracks, he has a feeling the entire frametype is just obsessed with decorations and fripperies, so he doesn't take her judgement seriously.

She pushes at his shin. "Get on the berth and lay down," she says, some plan clearly in her processor.

Astrotrain does so, settling himself on the uncomfortable metal. It wouldn't be so bad if he could adjust the angle to account for the rockets against his spinal strut, he thinks every time he lays down.

"What size?" he asks, when she clambers up to stand next to him. Her helm only just clears the top of his chest, their size difference feeling more pronounced at this angle.

"Stay like this," she says, hands grabbing at his plating to haul herself up on top of his chassis. She stands on top of his chest and studies him, thrusters a light tickle against the glass of his cab, wings spread wide as if to help her balance.

"Yeah," Skywarp says, mostly to herself it seems, "Yeah. You're going to use your mouth, first."

He looks at her steadily, anticipation tugging at his capacitors. "You planning to just talk?"

Her wings flick, one of those quick little gestures he gets the feeling have deeper meaning than the obvious, and he raises a hand to touch the sharp point of the undamaged one. They're so much more mobile than his own wings, more sensitive as well- he'd guessed, from her reactions, but when they hardlined and she sent him that burst of sensory data... The memory has him tamping down a shiver, aware of her precarious stance on top of him.

She makes her way closer to his head, sliding as she loses traction but catching herself before he can react to steady her. Astrotrain expects her to move directly to straddling his intake but instead she leans down, the position awkward as she kneels on his collar armor, and kisses him.

Ah, he should have guessed. He's careful as he kisses back, mindful of the size difference, hands wrapping around her chassis to support her stance. Under his digits he can feel her squirm, imagines he can already feel the static shocks of charge building up in her circuits.

He can't resist swiping his glossa out enough to lick her entire faceplate when she gives him the opening to do so, however.

Skywarp's expression scrunches up and she lets out a squeal, shrill compared to her normal tone, but there's laughter in the noise rather than anger. Before her, he hadn't realized that laughter and interfacing could even go together.

"Gross," she tells him, and licks a stripe on his own cheek in retaliation. It's such a small surface she's able to cover he only finds himself chuckling, the noise pulled out of him without his permission.

Then she's wiggling in his hold, pulling her faceplate away from his and instead settling herself with her knees perched on the vents on either side of his helm. It puts her panels just a few nanometers away from his intake, so close he can feel the heat radiating off her closed-up interface array.

Astrotrain locks his optics on hers, and slips the tip of his glossa out. It brushes against her modesty panels as well as a swathe of her inner thighs, and her cooling fans online with an audible _click_.

She doesn't hold out for very long, panels transforming away to expose spike and valve. He laps his tongue against her array, able to cover both units at once, and she lets out a strangled noise before grinding down against his mouth.

It doesn't take any effort to suck down her entire spike; it's more of a challenge to keep the rest of her _out_ , a hazard he never considered before. Skywarp doesn't seem to care, thighs gripping the sides of his faceplate as she rocks her hips down.

He focuses on rubbing his glossa against her array, the size difference making it difficult to do anything more complicated than really just giving her something to grind on. At least he doesn't have to be as careful as when trying to kiss her, he figures.

Astrotrain's own interface array isn't getting any sort of contact, of course, but watching her as she rides his face, optics heavy-lidded and hands sliding over her own frame, is enough of a show for him to feel his protocols onlining. The noises she makes help, none of the near-silence of their last encounter but throaty moans and little whimpers, a gasp of his designation when he swirls his glossa just _so_ over her slick valve.

His own digits feel too large and clumsy to do much touching, but he can feel the charge rising off her plating in little licks of electricity, his own circuitry heating up bit by bit.

She overloads messily, transfluid spurting straight into his intake and lubricant flooding over his glossa. He hums a little in satisfaction, swallowing down the taste of her, and Skywarp doesn't ask for a break but just keeps moving against his intake, the bio-lights on her frame twinkling with each surge that must be hitting her circuits.

He wonders if she's using that patch she mentioned earlier, when she was spiking him. She already has such a fast recovery time- but he supposes, he's mostly seen her use her valve, and sometimes array units differ.

He drags one of his hands down his chassis and presses against his codpiece, modesty panels hot and aching to retract.

"Did I say you could, mm, touch yourself?" she says, optics suddenly fully online and bright.

This was supposed to be revenge for the nitro-goats, Astrotrain remembers through the haze of a charged-up processor. He does his best to smirk with his mouth occupied and transforms away his panel, spike practically leaping to full extension as soon as it's freed.

Skywarp glances over her shoulder, down the length of his frame to his spike standing tall, and 'tsks'. "Oh, you're asking for it," she says, a look of mischief on her faceplate.

He can't ask what she thinks 'it' is with his intake full of her array, but he _can_ pointedly curl a hand around his spike and give himself a stroke, sensors flaring at the touch even if it's only his own.

She scrambles off his helm without a shred of grace, slick with fluids all down her thighs as she stands on the surface of the berth next to him. "Alright," she says, "You gotta take some mass off."

"Do I?" Astrotrain replies, teasing.

"Only if you want me to ride your spike," she says innocently. "But you seem to have yourself well in hand, maybe I'll leave you-"

He's already pulling himself down in size before she finishes her insincere threat, because she only overloaded once on his glossa and he highly doubts she intends to stop there. Especially not since her array is still bared, bio-lights glowing bright with charge.

"Hmm," Skywarp says when he's shrunk to what he figures is a good enough size, small enough compared to his usual that she seems strangely tall standing on the berth next to him. She steps over his wing and kneels by his hips, optics focused on his spike. "Could be larger," she says.

He shrugs, because he's pretty sure his spike is still going to be a stretch for her even at his smallest, but she turns her gaze towards his faceplate with a sharpness to her expression that makes him pause.

"I guess," Astrotrain says, and lets himself gain a bit more mass back in his frame.

She wraps her digits around him, measuring, and then clucks her tongue. "Too big, you'll have to downsize."

He's suspicious of her motives, but her hands are on his spike and he figures it's not that big of a deal. He shrinks himself down, aiming for somewhat larger than his first attempt. His system protests with the sensation of prickling tightness against his sensornet, but it's mostly washed away as Skywarp leans in and licks a stripe up the side of his spike.

"Hmm," she hums, all innocence. "Is this the best you have?"

He groans, already frustrated with the game she's playing. Mass-shifting isn't an exact science, he can only estimate how much mass he's displacing and what proportions that will leave the rest of him.

Still, if it gets her to touch him... He pulls out a bit more mass, not really enough to cause a major change.

"Oh dear," she starts to say, and he barks out a, " _Skywarp_!"

She snickers and flashes him a grin, smug and evil and he doesn't know why he puts up with her. Except then she swings herself up to straddle his hips, pressing her front up against his spike, and the comparison between his array and her entire frame cause his processor to hang mid-thought for a whole astrocycle.

By the time he's pushed himself out of the stall, Skywarp has already reared up above him, positioning herself to drop down on his aching spike. Her wings flash in the lights of his berthroom, glossa peeking out of her intake as she lines herself up.

"Wait," Astrotrain says, and she glances up at him. "Shouldn't you, are you ready?"

She huffs out a "ha" and starts lowering her valve onto his spike. She's wet, dripping lubrication and his oral fluid, but even if she loosens up after an overload she hasn't had anything inside of her.

It doesn't stop her, chassis rocking and squirming as she works her valve against the head of his spike without hesitation. He reaches out, maybe to try stopping her, but Skywarp grabs hold of his hand and uses it to steady herself. His spike sinks inside of her valve nanometer by nanometer, calipers forced to open and mesh straining as she stretches around his girth.

She's almost painfully tight around him, a pressure that makes his sensornet ring with pleasure even as his processor vaguely wonders if he should do anything to make it easier on her. He's not selfless enough to suggest she stop, though, not when there's a hot, wet valve stretching eagerly around him.

"Yeah," he murmurs as she takes him in further and further, "You like that?"

She's too focused on her actions to answer him, but he doesn't need anything except the way she's fighting her very frame to take his spike as proof of how much she wants him. It's exhilarating, a rush he'll never get tired of even putting aside how amazing the clanging itself is.

His spike doesn't quite fit all the way when she bottoms out, grinding and squirming with little whimpers but unable to advance any further. Astrotrain can see the shape of himself through her abdomen, a slight bulge distorting the flexible arrangement of her plating, and having visible proof of how much he can fill her up sends pleasure racing through his circuitry.

She plants her hands against his chest and starts riding him in earnest, her whole frame flexing and straining as she works her valve up and down, wiggling every time she hits her depth limit in a way that should be silly but just makes him more aware of the flexibility of her chassis. It's clear to him that she is focused entirely on her own pleasure, but he doesn't care because her selfishness still feels amazing on his spike all the same.

It does mean he's not feeling very compelled to give Skywarp a hand to help her along, even if her still-extended spike is alluring with its flashy color scheme, the glint of her pulsing anterior node begging to be touched. He lays back and watches her work instead, letting the sensations crash over him like solar flares against his plating; intense, but not lasting.

"You gonna help?" she asks, optics bright and wings quivering.

"Hmm," he says, pretending to think it over. "Nah." He does settle a hand around her middle, though, as much to support her as to stroke the pad of a thumb against the place his spike is displacing her plating. He can't feel it directly through all the layers, of course, but just the thought is maddeningly arousing.

She lets out a gasp halfway between disbelief and disappointment, and takes her hand off his plating to stroke her pretty little spike in short furious motions. It takes barely any time at all before she's overloading, spike shooting transfluid over his abdomen while her valve pulses and flutters around him.

Astrotrain groans at the feeling, and part of him wonders how she'd react if he just chased his own overload right now, despite whatever plans she has. He's charged up enough that it wouldn't take very long, most likely- he wonders if she's starting to wear off on him, her eagerness at least. It feels like he started off already at half capacity and climbing.

"Maybe I should leave," she says, "If you aren't pulling your weight."

He huffs an amused ex-vent, confident that she's bluffing even as he carefully doesn't allow himself to think about her seeker mates. "You won't," he tells her, voice low and rough at the edges. "You think anyone else can fill you like this?"

To emphasize his point, he presses down over her abdomen, right where his spike is driving to the very deepest part of her valve.

Skywarp keens, rhythm falling apart as she writhes on his spike. She grabs his wrist but neither pushes him away nor drags him closer, spinal strut bending to curl her chassis forward.

"That's it," he says, softening his tone at her reaction, satisfaction uncurling through his system.

He starts moving his hips up into her, rather than having her do all the work, and he finds himself touching her frame the way he'd teasingly denied her earlier. Her seams aren't as sensitive as his own, but the turbines in her chest cause her to moan when the fans are gently turned, and he has a feeling she could overload just from contact to her wings, especially if there's something to occupy her intake at the same time.

Astrotrain traces a digit over that intake, her lips swollen where she bit them earlier. Her glossa swipes out, swirling over the pad of his digit, and he slides it inside her mouth. She looks at him with optics half-shuttered and sucks on his digit like it's his spike, as eager as she had been the other cycle in the workshop.

He groans, feeling his overload building, capacitors tingling and spike throbbing for release.

He moves his other hand off her abdomen and reaches for her spike instead, digits tangling with hers as he interrupts her rhythm in order to touch her himself. She doesn't seem to mind, one hand bracing against his forearm and the other rubbing over her cockpit, teasing her own turbines with little flicks.

He overloads in a rush, static crackling across his vision. Skywarp moans around his digit and he remembers, barely, to keep moving his hand on her spike when all he wants to do is collapse, and it's a relief to feel her come apart not long after.

There aren't any surprises this time; Astrotrain slides his digit out of her intake and she squirms off his spent spike, wincing but not showing any signs of, well, bursting into tears again. He relaxes down to his struts, a tension he hadn't realized he was holding in.

She flops down across his chassis, peering at him with her chin propped up on his chest. "Where did you even _find_ nitro-goats?" she says after several astrocycles of silent scrutiny.

"The Autobots had some," he replies, and curls a hand around her middle to hold her in place while he returns his mass to its proper arrangement, frame growing in size underneath hers in a wave of relief.

She laughs, the sound bright and brassy. "They _would_ ," she says. She traces patterns on the glass of his cab, but if they have any meaning he can't decipher it. "This means I'm going to get you back twice as bad, you know that, right?"

"Bring it," Astrotrain says with a grin. He might not relish pranks as much as she does, but he can admire her cleverness in setting them up, and he _does_ like the feeling of her attention turned towards him.

"You're not going to know what hit you," she says, like a promise. But then she glances at her left forearm, a classic gesture to signal comms that need answering, and sighs. "But I've got to fly."

He nods, loosening his grip to let her go. Skywarp squirms forward enough to kiss him, a quick peck he isn't prepared to react to in time, and then hops off him and the berth. She pulls a cleaning cloth out of her subspace and wipes herself down, and throws him a wink right before slipping out of his door.

Astrotrain drops himself back to lie flat on the berth again and doesn't resist the urge to power down for a quick nap before he has to deal with the real world again.

It takes Dead End only six cycles before he comes crawling back, complaining that no one is willing to bring him over the Line (and, critically, carry him back again) while Megatron is so feverishly preparing defenses. At least, not for as low of a price as Astrotrain is charging.

Astrotrain laughs, low and mean, and asks him if his little Autobot lover is really worth all this fuss.

Dead End doesn't rise to the bait, turning his faceplate away and staring off into space for a long moment, hand curling into a fist and then relaxing. "He is," he says, quiet. "I know you don't understand, you jumped-up taxi, but he's worth everything."

Astrotrain shifts his weight, uncomfortable with the way the conversation's tone has changed. It sounds like Dead End has _feelings_ for his Autobot, and that's not something he wants to think about. Relationships are a weakness, a weapon to be used against you- how many times had he watched Megatron deactivate one half of a sparkbonded pair, only for the survivor to wither away in grief shortly after?

Not that there's a sparkbond here as far as he knows, but unbonded couples still suffer when their chosen mate is tortured in their stead, even the simply uncertainty of not knowing a battle's casualty list multiplying itself to agony.

"Ten cubes," Astrotrain says, awkward.

Dead End nods, and they return to their tasks without speaking.

"Hey, Astrotrain," Skywarp says, and he glances around without seeing her before looking _up_. She's dangling from the ceiling of one of the base's main hallways- the few that are large enough for him to walk through without feeling cramped- upside down, a wire wrapped around one leg. "Have you see Soundwave's little glitches around recently?"

She sounds more serene than he'd expect, considering the circumstances. "No," he replies. The cassettes are so much smaller than him he mostly forgets they exist at all, except when they trigger a proximity warning around his pedes.

"Yeah, thought so," she says. She's spinning in place slightly, wings catching the air drafts. "Mind cutting that wire for me?"

Astrotrain considers leaving her up there. She's high enough up that it's unlikely anyone else will notice her unless she kicks up a fuss, or if someone decides to fly through the upper half of the hallway. "You haven't teleported out?" he asks. Maybe the wire around her thruster is a problem, or she has to be right side up- he doesn't know how her warp ability works, other than that it's different from his multiverse drive.

"Why would I need to, with you right here?" she says, with a smile he thinks is supposed to be compelling but mostly looks silly, upside down as it is.

He snorts, but reaches up for her. Rather than cutting or snapping the wire- it's probably tough, if she doesn't have something that can get through it on her own- he lifts her chassis up enough to take the strain off, and plucks the newly-loosened loop off the end of her leg.

Skywarp crows in victory, and settles herself so she's sitting in the palm of his hand, casually as if she wasn't just rescued but had planned this encounter. "Thanks," she says, small digits curling around one of his for support as he brings his hand down to a more comfortable level near his chest. "You busy?"

"I've got a transport job," he says, "I'm free after that."

"Sounds good. Why don't I go with you? I could use some air time after just, heh, _hanging around_ ," she says with a snicker. Her legs swing back and forth as they dangle out of his hand, maybe shaking out the stiffness of being held captive or just her usual restlessness.

Astrotrain considers whether she should know he's going to Autobot territory, but slag it. Dead End can take the blame if there's trouble. "Sure," he says.

She smiles, and he comms her a data packet with the time he's leaving and the coordinates he's teleporting to, so she won't have to endure his portals if she doesn't want to. "I'm taking off from near the Insecticons' hive," he says, and she wrinkles her faceplate in a moue of distaste. He can't really blame her; just watching their construction methods makes him regret allowing them passage through from his original dimension.

She sighs, but says, "I'll meet you there." And then leaps out of his hand, transforming as she zips through the hallway at a reckless speed.

Astrotrain is the last one at the rendezvous point, arriving to see Dead End and Skywarp having some kind of stand off, frames tense but at least no weapons drawn. He's somewhat curious what they were discussing, but not enough to ask.

"You should make him ride on the outside," Skywarp says.

"Don't you dare," Dead End says, approaching his exterior door with a sour expression.

Astrotrain considers the suggestion, very much tempted, but he'd rather lock Dead End away in his interior and focus on Skywarp, he decides. His door slides open and Dead End shoots her a triumphant look, then has to endure Astrotrain having fun denying him entry while she laughs uproariously.

Eventually they're in the air, Dead End sulking and trying to polish himself back up, muttering under his breath. Astrotrain ignores him, not even bothering to turn on his holo-avatar.

He's seen Skywarp fly before, of course, and he's become very familiar with the sorts of stunts seekers pull thanks to his former berth in the main hangar and the general abundance of the frametype. But he's never flown _with_ her, her sleek jet alt flashing under the light of Luna-2 rising as she swoops and swerves around his much steadier flight path.

Not too steady, though- his shuttle form might not be as acrobatic as hers, but he's absolutely taking the opportunity to throw Dead End around his interior with unexpected dips and rolls.

There's a comm line open between them, Skywarp's laughter ringing bright and clear every time he relays another of Dead End's misfortunes.

To his surprise, she latches on to his exterior and rides through his multiverse portals rather than teleporting herself directly. ::Oh, it's worse from out here!:: she cries, wings trembling against his plating as unspace unfurls around them. ::You really don't feel it?::

::Not really:: Astrotrain replies, and gets the second portal open before she tries something like warping from inside unspace. Whatever the possible consequences of that move are, he isn't eager to find out tonight.

She flies away with a wobble as soon as they're through the portal, but circles back quickly enough.

He finds a suitable place to drop Dead End, on top of a cluster of crystals growing feral that look like they'll break under his weight if he can't get down quickly enough. ::Fly back?:: he asks Skywarp, already regaining altitude.

::Wait, I wanna see who he's meeting:: she says, flying a loose spiral out from the drop site.

::Some Autobot:: Astrotrain says dismissively.

::Duh:: she replies, ::But which _one_?::

He doesn't understand her interest, but it's no metal off his plating to hang around a little while longer. Unless she's going to take the information back to Megatron, in which case he'll have to deal with the fallout of whatever punishment Dead End is given. Maybe even have to find a new mecha to assist in the workshop, a cheering thought.

Skywarp must recognize the Autobot because she hisses a triumphant, ::I knew it!::

::Who is it?:: he asks.

::Perceptor:: she says, and pulls herself up to match his altitude. ::A weak little scientist, who's probably only putting up with Dead End 'cause no one else wants him::

Astrotrain hums over the comm-link like the designation means anything to him. He's been briefed on the main players in the Autobot faction, since his own dimension no longer contains any of them and hasn't for several million solar cycles- but whoever this Perceptor is, he didn't merit a data file.

::Alright, let's get out of here before I have to see Autobot spike:: she says, and he's happy enough to depart.

He assumes they'll fly more or less straight back to the Decepticon side of the planet, but Skywarp keeps haring off in different directions and expecting him to follow. It's not like he has anywhere else to be, but he _had_ been hoping they'd interface and he's not entirely eager to pop his panels in enemy territory.

::Tell me what you see:: she says as they approach the airspace near a city, entirely too close for his comfort.

::A city:: he replies. ::Praxus?:: Astrotrain doesn't know what she's asking for, or why. Unless she wanted him to tell her about the light of the moons gleaming off her paint?

::What _about_ the city:: she prompts.

::It's a city:: he says, frustration rising. ::And someone is going to notice us flying so close, pretty soon::

::Exactly!:: she says, veering off so sharply she hangs sideways for a moment as she cuts through the atmosphere. He's clumsier to follow, his alt mode better at straight shots than tight turns. ::There are Autobots in this city. Not just sentries, either. See how many lights are on?::

He focuses his optical sensors at the city that's now behind him, and realizes that she's correct. The city is still largely a mess, like all the cities on this dimension's Cybertron, but he can see signs of rebuilding going on now that he's looking for it, rubble cleared out of the streets and buildings starting to be repaired.

But he still doesn't know why she's pointing it out. ::So?::

Skywarp is leading them away from the city now, nosecone aimed towards the wall still a couple hundred kliks away. Her voice is quiet when she speaks. ::The Autobots are starting to rebuild their cities, and we're still crammed into a makeshift base. Doesn't that seem odd to you?::

No one ever asks for his opinion, especially not on things like this. He's a grunt, a shuttle they can fill with cargo; noticing things is an outright liability when he carries passengers with higher security clearances than his own.

But now that she's pointing it out... It is strange, isn't it. He's heard some Decepticons around base idly talking about rebuilding this or that, reclaiming their home city or visiting someplace they never had the chance to before, but he hasn't seen a single bit of construction going on that isn't related to Megatron's defense systems.

::I guess:: he says, uncomfortable with where she's leading his processor. If the Autobots rebuild faster, they'll be stronger and more able to fight when the ceasefire ends- or is it smart of Megatron to keep his soldiers in one place, prepared for attack? ::Does Lord Megatron know?::

She dips and rises, shedding speed or imitating a shrug, until she's flying parallel to his cab. He can feel the heat from her thrusters washing over his wing, a contrast to the rush of cool night air. ::What happened to the Megatron in your dimension?:: she asks rather than answering him.

Astrotrain likes this line of questioning even less. It's treason to even _think_ half the things he wants to say, terror gripping him tight around his spark at the same time as bitter hatred burns up his energon lines. For the first time, it occurs to him that Megatron will probably not be content to just take the Matrix back and deactivate those responsible for taking it. He'll see this as another opportunity for conquest, thirsty for power, and he won't hesitate to offline the 'unnecessary' Decepticons a second time around.

Astrotrain already knows that his own existence is forfeit if this dimension's Megatron can't hold back the original, the true Megatron. And he has no friends here, no ties to his fellow soldiers, no reason to care what fate they have in store- save Skywarp.

He doesn't have any memories of her from his original dimension, which tells him all he needs to know about her odds of being declared useful.

::If he manages to come here, warp as far away as you can, and keep going:: he tells her.

::What?:: she says, ::Didn't our Megatron take the Matrix from him as he went offline?::

Astrotrain barks out a laugh, cold and humorless. Is _that_ the official story? ::He's very much functional:: he says, ::And he won't stop at anything to get the Matrix back. He doesn't need anyone but his 'Perfect Decepticons' either... So if he makes it through, run. He won't bother to chase you down:: Or so he hopes.

::I'm not going to run away:: she scoffs, ::And anyway, if Megatron- _my_ Megatron- did take the Matrix by force, that just means he's the better warrior::

His engines growl, frustrated that she doesn't understand the danger and frustrated with himself for caring about whether she takes his warning seriously. He just... he doesn't want her to be deactivated, not for something as senseless as going up against Megatron, who won't even pause to consider her worth before extinguishing her spark.

He supposes that fearlessness makes her a better Decepticon, but it's not enough. He's seen what his dimension's Megatron considers 'perfect' and it's far removed from her flashy acrobatics.

::You don't get it:: he tries, struggling with the words.

An unfamiliar voice crying out, ::Halt, Decepticons!:: over a general broadcast frequency saves Astrotrain from having to wrestle with the thoughts in his processor.

::Ah, slag:: Skywarp hisses over their comm-link, ::Jetfire::

He does an optical sweep, and finds a red-and-white jet swooping out of the clouds, Autobot symbol proudly stamped on his wings. Jetfire was included in his Autobot briefing, mostly because Sky-Byte had started ranting and raving about his 'greatest foe'.

::Ground yourselves willingly and I will not use force against you!:: Jetfire says, the cadence of his voice almost as annoying as the volume.

::Yeah, no:: Skywarp replies on the general frequency. She pivots and unleashes a blast from her null rays, glowing red in the dark night.

Jetfire dodges, and his volley of return fire clips Astrotrain on his tailfin. ::Then take _that_ , trespassers!::

::Does he always speak with exclamation marks?:: Astrotrain comms to Skywarp.

She sends back a burst of laughter. ::Should have been there back when he was at the Academy, you could hear him leagues away::

Unfortunately, his inattention gives Jetfire room to blast his undercarriage, missiles exploding with a sharp pain against his plating. Astrotrain swivels his main ion cannon and fires, but Jetfire dodges in a swirl of flashing wings.

Dodges straight into Skywarp's next attack, that is. Jetfire cries out as her null ray's blast hits his nosecone, leaving scorch marks on his white paint.

::You won't take me down so easily!:: he calls as he rallies, and unleashes a barrage of laser fire.

Astrotrain is able to avoid most of this wave, but his sensors alert him to the presence of three more Autobots approaching, and he knows Megatron won't be pleased to hear of him breaking the treaty without even having a good reason. ::More Autobots incoming:: he tells Skywarp.

::Slaggit:: she says, ::Let's bail:: She disappears in a flash of purple light, Jetfire dramatically calling out something about cowards that Astrotrain tunes out.

He opens a portal of his own, a little disappointed that Jetfire pulls up in time to avoid following him in. It would be satisfying to trap him in unspace as payback for the stinging burns on his plating.

He doesn't see Skywarp back at base, which is just as well because Jetfire's attacks damaged him more than Astrotrain thought, and he finds himself unable to transform out of his alt mode.

A diagnostic scan suggests his self-repair won't be able to fix the problem, at least not quickly enough for him to be able to work on Megatron's weapon for a few cycles. Reluctantly, he hails the repair bay as energon puddles out underneath him.

::I need repairs:: he says, when one of the technicians picks up the line.

::Well you know where we are:: Scalpel's voice replies, tone nasty as per usual.

::I can't come to you:: Astrotrain says, not bothering to keep the frustration out of his voice. ::I won't fit. I'm in the main hangar::

There's a moment of silence, and then Scalpel says as if this is a great privilege, ::I _suppose_ we can send someone your way::

::Thanks:: he says with flat sarcasm, and cuts the line.

To his surprise, it's Scrapper who arrives in the hangar not long after. It's hard to tell expressions when he wears a battlemask but he looks annoyed; hopefully not annoyed enough to make Astrotrain's injuries worse.

"What's the damage?" he demands, casting a critical optic- or visor, in his case- over Astrotrain's form.

"I took some fire," Astrotrain says, "I can't transform."

Scrapper sighs, and starts to walk around his sides, visor flashing as he scans.

"It's my underside," Astrotrain admits.

"Oh, goody," Scrapper says flatly. He must call for backup on his comm because while he's examining the damage to Astrotrain's tailfin- superficial, nothing his self-repair can't patch up in a few cycles- Bonecrusher and Scavenger appear in the hangar, wheeling what looks like some kind of large hydraulic jack between them.

There's really nothing Astrotrain can do to help, since activating his thrusters to hover with them so close will at best annoy them and at worst scorch them with their own damage, so he just says nothing as he allows the Constructicons to maneuver the jack underneath himself and start cranking it up. The jack creaks ominously, but seems to hold his weight.

Scrapper isn't gentle as he prods at the damaged places, but pain is temporary and it's nothing Astrotrain can't take.

"I'll have to take this plate off to get it repaired," Scrapper says after a while. "Looks like there's some shrapnel lodged in there as well, probably why you can't transform."

Astrotrain doesn't realize he's waiting for a response for a couple of astrocycles, until Scrapper resets his vocalizer pointedly. "Uh, okay," he says. Usually medics just... do whatever they need to do, and you're lucky if they finish the job before another patient distracts them away.

But he's not in his original dimension anymore, he has to remind himself.

They _are_ still Decepticons in this dimension, though, so Scrapper doesn't offer any sort of sensor blocker before getting to work detaching the damaged plates and directing Scavenger to pick out bits of shrapnel.

Astrotrain is glad he's in his alt mode for this, it's easier to hide pain when you don't have a faceplate to grimace or limbs to thrash. He just shuts off his vocalizer and hunkers in on himself, enduring the procedure in silence.

He's good at enduring.

Dead End starts comming him midway through the night for a pick-up, but Scrapper had made it clear Astrotrain is expected to stay put until the welds finish solidifying.

::Just spend the night:: Astrotrain tells him. ::Or can he not put up with you that long?::

::You trying to get me deactivated?:: Dead End says, ::The Autobots are all riled up, _something_ about Decepticon intruders spotted on their territory. Thought even a piston-head like you would be more careful than that::

::I'm not going anywhere until morning:: Astrotrain says firmly, ::Medic's orders::

It doesn't help that he hasn't heard anything from Skywarp, and while he's not concerned about her getting back to the base safely- he doesn't think she even took any damage in their short confrontation- he's disappointed that she hadn't sought him out to see if he's up for a frag after that flight, or at least tease for the damage he did take, and still confused by his reaction to her refusing to accept Megatron as a threat. It's a tangle of emotions his co-processor is having a hard time sorting through, conflicting impulses tugging at his system.

Instead of reaching out for her himself, he activates the comm-muting program she gave him and falls into an uneasy recharge.

Of course he can't _actually_ leave Dead End at the Autobot's mercy forever, no matter how tempting the idea is. Astrotrain picks him up just after dawn, and doesn't give him any time to hit the washracks or mess hall, instead carting him directly to the workshop.

It means Dead End is even grumpier than usual since he's tired, scuffed up, and under-fueled all at once, but it's not like he's ever been a ray of sunshine.

"Will you shut off that fragging alarm?" Dead End snaps, waving the soldering iron in his hand like it's a deadly weapon.

Astrotrain isn't about to tell him that he doesn't know what the alarm is for; it's grating against his sensors as well, a shrill chiming that rings out momentarily at irregular intervals regardless of what is running on the computer terminal. He's already restarted the terminal to clear any background processes he might have left running, but it hasn't helped.

He's pretty sure the entire computer system is malfunctioning, anyway. Maybe that's what the alarm is trying to alert him to. The keys he presses activate the wrong function, or don't register at all, or send multiple signals in a rush, even when he switches to using his digits directly against the display. It's not bad enough for him to be completely unable to run the manual diagnostics on the dimensional ray's power coupling system, but it is severely hindering his progress.

Was there some sort of electrical storm that he missed? The computer isn't hooked up to any sort of network, strictly a local machine to do calculations and hold schematics, so it can't have picked up a virus.

Astrotrain scowls at the malfunctioning terminal as the glyph he meant to enter repeats in a long useless string across the screen, and then kicks the base just in case that will encourage its cooperation.

The computer gives him a shock for his troubles, and promptly shuts off.

"Slagging thing's fried," he says, smacking the side of the terminal just to make himself feel better.

"Can't imagine why, with that treatment," Dead End drawls.

Astrotrain turns his scowl on him, instead. "You want a turn in its place?"

Dead End's optics roll and he grumbles insults about Astrotrain's intelligence level and problem-solving abilities almost too quietly to be heard.

Astrotrain thinks of how very satisfying it would be to crumple him into a flat sheet of foil, or trap him in unspace once the ray is working. But before he can come up with a suitable threat, the damned alarm goes off again, shrill and piercing.

He looks at the computer terminal, which is offline. Come to think of it, had he even _installed_ speakers into the system?

"Why is that thing still going off?" Dead End says, tone caustic.

"It must be a security alarm," Astrotrain says. Or some sort of sensor trying to alert him to the power glitch that's already fried his computer. "Go check the perimeter."

Dead End pulls a face, undoubtedly as annoyed at the dust he's going to pick up as the fact that he's being ordered to do work at all. But he goes, because even _he_ doesn't want to get slagged by Megatron for allowing Autobots to spy on them.

Astrotrain heads to the main power junction and starts laboriously checking the lines one by one. They all seem intact, properly connected and reading steady levels of charge. He unplugs the computer terminal, waits ten astrocycles, and plugs it back in.

The alarm goes off.

He grits his denta and opens the door of the supplies closet, thinking there might be a control panel he's forgotten about tucked away in there. The storage room is packed, floor to ceiling, with fire suppressant foam. Astrotrain growls and thinks about how much time this is going to take to clean out, and whether it's damaged any of the materials stored in there, and then it occurs to him that they never installed a fire-suppressing system in the workshop in the first place.

That makes him pause, optics narrowing as he considers the events of the cycle.

The beeping alarm, which he can't connect to any system or even figure out where it's coming from. His malfunctioning computer terminal. The foam slowly collapsing outwards from the now-open closet.

"All clear out there," Dead End says, and then, "Did you set something on fire?"

"No," Astrotrain says without elaborating. He'll have to just toss the foam outside, he guesses, since they're not equipped to handle that sort of waste.

Dead End doesn't clue in to the fact that it's all part of a prank until after the foam is cleaned up, and he goes for a new roll of solder only to find cheap sticky tape. Rolls and rolls of it jammed into the storage box the solder wire should be kept. The other containers in the storage closet reveal a different type of tape, little twisted wires meant for holding flimsy print-outs together, data cables with useless connector types, a vat of something viscous and shiny with suspended glitter that neither of them wants to investigate further, an assortment of buttons and keys that seem to have been pried off random computer terminals, and other such junk.

The best part of this discovery, Astrotrain thinks as he tries to stifle a laugh, is that this barely inconveniences _him_ at all, because it's Dead End doing the actual grunt work to assemble the dimensional ray.

"Your glitched-up seeker did this, didn't she?" Dead End says, frustratedly upturning a box of broken data sticks so they scatter across the foam-sticky floor of the workshop.

"She's not mine," Astrotrain replies, unable to stop his lips from curling into a smirk.

Dead End sighs like he's given up on everything, kicks at some of the data sticks scattered around his pedes, and then says, "You can sort this out on your own, I'm done."

"You'll help me clean up or I'll tell Lord Megatron you're delaying the project," Astrotrain says.

Dead End groans and sighs some more, but between the two of them the workshop gets more or less cleaned up. The real supplies are nowhere to be seen, however, and with his terminal still malfunctioning to the point of unusability Astrotrain is forced to call it quits long before the cycle is over.

He finds Skywarp in his berthroom, midway through plastering every surface- floor, walls, ceiling, _everything_ \- with printed image captures of Dead End. Her optics widen in surprise, wings shooting up, one of the print-outs held by her intake while her hands work on smoothing down another.

They stare at each other for a moment, Astrotrain surprised not that she's moved on to messing up his berthroom, but that he caught her in the act. Then he lunges for her, door sliding shut behind him.

She shrieks and skitters back, but he can read the playfulness in the noise as easily as she can probably see it on his faceplate. If she was really concerned, she'd just warp out, anyway.

He's gentler wrapping his hands around her frame than he would be with anybot else, containing without crushing. The print-out she was holding flutters to the floor, joining countless others.

"So you're back early," she says, flashing him a winning smile like she can bluff her way out of being caught red-handed.

Astrotrain finds himself returning the expression entirely without conscious direction, his voice a low rumbling purr as he says, "I think you owe me an apology."

She squirms in his grip, wings flick-flicking against his digits, quick little brushes like a trapped nano-moth. Unlike a trapped nano-moth though Skywarp is only struggling to get closer to his chassis, her plating already warming up against his touch.


End file.
